L'ENFANT TERRIBLEL'ENFANT TERRIBLE!Chorus in the Stern."DON'T GO ON LIKE THAT—OR YOU'LL UPSET US ALL!!"
Chorus in the Stern."DON'T GO ON LIKE THAT—OR YOU'LL UPSET US ALL!!"
Exceptionally good in food for body and mind. "First person present in indicative mood" is SirFrederick, the courteous President, pointing out to Royal Highnesses the beauties of Burlington House. Stars, ribands, and garters everywhere. Exceptionally distinguished personages come in with invitations only, and no orders. Pretty to see CardinalManning's bright scarlet scull-cap, quite eclipsingRustem Pasha's fez. Cardinal distinctly observed to smile duringMarkiss's humorous observations. "Markissis ready," sounds like twin phrase to "Barkis is willin'." H.R.H.'s speech shorter than ever. Wonderful, too, how eloquent SirFrederickcontrives to spread fresh butter on dry old toasts, so that everyone relishes them as choice morsels. All speeches shorter, except Admiralty Lord's, who, being among portrait-painters, goes in for figures. But where is—"Mr.Stanley, I presume?" Not here. Invited, but perhaps exploring neighbourhood, and unable to discover Burlington House. Altogether an exceptionally brilliant evening.
AT A HORSE FAIRAT A HORSE FAIR.Dealer. "Now, Guv'nor, say you'll 'ave 'im for Thirty-five Bob. You can't get a good sound young 'Oss like 'im for less!"
Dealer. "Now, Guv'nor, say you'll 'ave 'im for Thirty-five Bob. You can't get a good sound young 'Oss like 'im for less!"
Air—"O Ruddier than the Cherry!"
Air—"O Ruddier than the Cherry!"
ORudyard, in this sherry,I drink your very, veryGood health. I wouldThat write I couldLikeKipling, sad or merry.
ORudyard, in this sherry,I drink your very, veryGood health. I wouldThat write I couldLikeKipling, sad or merry.
ORudyard, in this sherry,
I drink your very, very
Good health. I would
That write I could
LikeKipling, sad or merry.
(Signed)
Invidius Naso.
(A Legend of the Opening of the Royal Military Exhibition.)
(A Legend of the Opening of the Royal Military Exhibition.)
The Lady got out of her picture in the Morning Room, and glanced at herself in the Club glass. She had been painted by SirPeter Lely, and consequently was scarcely in a costume suitable to a May Day at the close of the Nineteenth Century.
"I' faith," said the Lady, "but I must get me a cloak to cover me, otherwise I shall have a crowd a following me."
It will be seen from this observation that, although the Lady had flourished (very considerably) in the time ofCharles the Second, she had not kept up her Carolian English. It is possible that the chit-chat under her frame by the fire-place had corrupted the purity of her—to an antiquary—interesting lingo. Be this as it may, she glided down the large and handsome staircase, and selecting the furred and hooded coat of a member who had just returned from abroad, annexed it.
"This will do nicely," she murmured; "quite the mode," a remark which proved that she had seen no fashion-plates lying on the Club table, and, therefore, was entirely ignorant of the modern mysteries of ladies' dress. However, she passed in the crowd—partly because no one appeared to notice her. A Lady from a portrait by SirPeter Lelywithout her frame and background, after all, is rather a shadowy creation.
When she had turned from Garrick Street into St. Martin's Lane, she looked about her in surprise. What had been fields when she was in the flesh were now sites of houses. She glided along, perplexed to a degree, until she got to Charing Cross; then she recognised the statue ofCharles the First, and what was standing of White Hall.
"By my troth, this is not an improvement! Houses, houses, nothing but houses! I will e'en take the water to Chelsea, and see the hospital I persuadedRowleyto give to his poor soldiers. There should be some stairs hereabouts."
But if the Lady did not find stairs, she came across a landing-stage. She got on to the Westminster Pier, and was soon aboard one of the best vessels of the Victoria Steamboat Association, Limited. Within half an hour or so she was landed opposite the building it had been her privilege to secure for the benefit of the British Army. The place was brave with bunting. There were enormous sheds full of battle pictures and portraits, and in the grounds was an arena suitable for the holding of military sports. Then there was a huge band-stand, and the electric light was laid on with great liberality in the gardens.
"Gad'sooks!" exclaimed the Lady of the Picture; "and what are they doing in the precincts of Chelsea Hospital?"
She was immediately supplied with information. A Military Exhibition was being held in aid of the Church of England Institutes—establishments (so she was told) of a strictly unsectarian character. The entertainments would be of a most popular character,—weather permitting,al fresco. The commissariat would be excellent. In one place only temperance beverages would be served, but elsewhere there would be—well—there would be drinks. At that very moment the Exhibition was being opened by the Most Illustrious Gentleman in the Land accompanied by H.R.H.'s most charming and most beautiful partner. Would the Lady like to see the place?
"Another time," she replied. "Stay, I would like to see myself. Have you a picture of me? I am MistressNellie Gwynne."
Her courteous informant bowed, and shook his head. He had heard it suggested at the inaugural lunch that she should be represented, but there were so many things to do—the Military Sports, the eating and drinking, the Royal Patronage, and the Church of England Institutes,—that, in point of fact, the matter had been overlooked.
"Well, never mind," said good-naturedNellie, "I daresay you will get on very well without me. But look to this, my master. Here we are very near the site of old Cremorne, and a part of the grounds over yonder is called Ranelagh. You have lights and bands, and subtle beverages, some of which will cheer but not inebriate,—and others that may possibly reverse the operation. Well, well, my portrait is not in your collection,—the best I can wish you is that you may keep your nightfêtesas select as your picture-gallery."
And with this the Lady returned to her frame beside the fire-place in the Club Morning Room.
[Under the 29th Section of the Weights and Measures Act "the person in charge of the vehicle," when coal-frauds are perpetrated, seems to be alone punishable.]
[Under the 29th Section of the Weights and Measures Act "the person in charge of the vehicle," when coal-frauds are perpetrated, seems to be alone punishable.]
Not a sack was full, not a weight was true,As the coals to their cellar we hurried;Not an eye could see were they many or fewIn the crypt where our cobbles we buried.We buried them gaily, at luncheon time,All Acts of Parliament spurning;There were "Kitchens," composed of slate and slime,And Wallsend, "dimly burning."No fussing servants surveyed our cart—(If they had, we'd have kept them shivering)—They were busy serving the family tartAt our chosen hour for delivering!Few and brief the remarks we made;Not of coals, but of beer, we chattered;And we thought of the tricks of an opulent tradeAs the coal-dust we liberally scattered.We thought of our "dealer," our wealthy boss,How he's spared by the law just created;How we carmen are made to suffer the lossWhen for fraud by a Court we are "slated."Lightly they'll talk of his "ha'porth of sack,"On his weights make unhandsome reflection;But little he'll reck, as fines fall on our back,Andhe's"doubly-screened" from detection!But half of our "heavy task" was doneWhen a spy of the Council—drat it!—Came pushing his nose in our sacks, every one,Tried our weights, and our bill—looked at it!Slowly and sadly we slunk out of sight,Objecting to get into hobbles;We breathed no farewell, and we said no good-night,But we left him alone with the cobbles!
Not a sack was full, not a weight was true,As the coals to their cellar we hurried;Not an eye could see were they many or fewIn the crypt where our cobbles we buried.
Not a sack was full, not a weight was true,
As the coals to their cellar we hurried;
Not an eye could see were they many or few
In the crypt where our cobbles we buried.
We buried them gaily, at luncheon time,All Acts of Parliament spurning;There were "Kitchens," composed of slate and slime,And Wallsend, "dimly burning."
We buried them gaily, at luncheon time,
All Acts of Parliament spurning;
There were "Kitchens," composed of slate and slime,
And Wallsend, "dimly burning."
No fussing servants surveyed our cart—(If they had, we'd have kept them shivering)—They were busy serving the family tartAt our chosen hour for delivering!
No fussing servants surveyed our cart—
(If they had, we'd have kept them shivering)
—They were busy serving the family tart
At our chosen hour for delivering!
Few and brief the remarks we made;Not of coals, but of beer, we chattered;And we thought of the tricks of an opulent tradeAs the coal-dust we liberally scattered.
Few and brief the remarks we made;
Not of coals, but of beer, we chattered;
And we thought of the tricks of an opulent trade
As the coal-dust we liberally scattered.
We thought of our "dealer," our wealthy boss,How he's spared by the law just created;How we carmen are made to suffer the lossWhen for fraud by a Court we are "slated."
We thought of our "dealer," our wealthy boss,
How he's spared by the law just created;
How we carmen are made to suffer the loss
When for fraud by a Court we are "slated."
Lightly they'll talk of his "ha'porth of sack,"On his weights make unhandsome reflection;But little he'll reck, as fines fall on our back,Andhe's"doubly-screened" from detection!
Lightly they'll talk of his "ha'porth of sack,"
On his weights make unhandsome reflection;
But little he'll reck, as fines fall on our back,
Andhe's"doubly-screened" from detection!
But half of our "heavy task" was doneWhen a spy of the Council—drat it!—Came pushing his nose in our sacks, every one,Tried our weights, and our bill—looked at it!
But half of our "heavy task" was done
When a spy of the Council—drat it!—
Came pushing his nose in our sacks, every one,
Tried our weights, and our bill—looked at it!
Slowly and sadly we slunk out of sight,Objecting to get into hobbles;We breathed no farewell, and we said no good-night,But we left him alone with the cobbles!
Slowly and sadly we slunk out of sight,
Objecting to get into hobbles;
We breathed no farewell, and we said no good-night,
But we left him alone with the cobbles!
Last Report.—The Dean and Chapter of Westminster have discharged a Canon. No one was seriously injured.
Tally Ho Ho HoNo. 1004. Tally Ho Ho Ho! Going over a Ha! Ha! Ha! Quite the picture of the year, and will probably be presented by subscription to Colney Hatch, Esq., Master of the Hanwell Hounds.
The Determined BatherNo. 243. The Determined Bather. Temperature so cold that drapery is frozen.
Curiosity in Animal LifeNo. 110. Curiosity in Animal Life. Escaped from Barnum's.
AdvertisementNo. 437. Advertisement for Provincial Tour of Griffiths Brothers as "The Blondin Donkey."
No. 5. The First Storey in the Royal Academy Annual is entitled,The Hungry Messenger. GoodStorey.
No. 44. Never put off till toMoro Phillipswhat you can put on to-day. Illustration of an elderly Blue-coat Boy unable to leave off an old habit.
No. 53, with No. 98 and No. 91. Ought to have been hung together, portraits "en soot."
No. 202.Ethereal Football.
No. 224.Boy and Dog.Briton Rivière, R.A. Dog unmuzzled, boy hears policeman's footstep.
No. 235. "Every dog has his Washing-day." Pet just been cleaned and brought into drawing-room. Doubtful reception by Papa and other sisters. Hardly up to the usual form ofW. Q. Orchardson, R.A.
No. 292. Mr.Phil. A. Morris, A. calls this "La Belle Américaine." Is she? The tone of this belle is rather loud.
No. 303. A wonderful picture and portrait, byLuke Fildes, R.A. "Lukeon this picture and on——" any other portrait, and you'll find this hard to beat. Wealth of colour, colour of wealth,affaire de Luke's.
No. 318.Major E. R. Burke.Admirable portrait, byHubert Herkomer, A. See how the Master of Bushey has dealt with the Hair! As might be expected from a Hair-comber with a brush in his hand. Will be remembered as "Burke and Hair."
You'll say thisas soonas you see it.Hubert Herkomer, A(ngcore).
No. 411.Mrs. Arthur Sassoon.Charming. Sweet simplicity.
Scene at Dollis HillNo. 361. Scene at Dollis Hill
No. 361. Scene at Dollis Hill
No. 463.Sir Oscar Clayton, C.M.E.Bravo Mr. F.Goodall, R.A. Good entirely. Artist was thinking of adapting refrain of popular comic song, "Ask a P'liceman," and writing under portrait legend—
If you want to know who's this,—"Oscar Clayton."
If you want to know who's this,—"Oscar Clayton."
But it was unnecessary, as the portrait speaks for itself.
No. 473.D-T-erioration;or, SirEdwin Arnold, K.C.S.I., commencing as a book-maker, and laying "two to one bar one." "Arnold'sfirst exercise" in this character is depicted byJames Archer.
No. 600.Tum-Tum The Melancholy, ByJoseph Mordecai. IsHamanhung too?
No. 703. "Nobody looking, Mother, You can prig something out of the Money-box." But the vigilant Verger has his eye on them. Such is the story told byBlandford Fletcher.
No. 744. Coming home late in the Olden Time. ByRalph Hedley. No latch-key. Rousing the neighbourhood with pantomime door-knocker. Situation graphically depicted.
No. 759.By the Linn Pool.ByNoble. Charming. Must be of course;Noblesse oblige.
Primrose DamesNo. 487. Primrose Dames.
No. 487. Primrose Dames.
No. 794. "Out shooting." Very much out, shooting. Nothing toCroweabout.
No. 886.A Smile.Delightful. This Miss is as good as her smile.Jan van Beers.
No. 1028. "Please to remember the Ninth of November." Lord Mayor's Procession stopped by photographer. "Now, then—wait—where you are—when I say three!" And as they were taken, so they are cleverly represented byWilliam Logsdail.
Mrs. Jack-in-the-GreenNo. 652. Mrs. Jack-in-the-Green. Tree-mendous!
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.
House of Commons, Monday, April 28.—Irish Land Purchase Bill again.Chamberlainlifts debate out of somewhat tedious trough into which it had fallen. Remarkable speech; bold in conception; adroit in arrangement; forcible in argument; lucid in exposition. Spoke for over an hour, and though his discourse, full of intricate points, the marshalling of which was frequently interrupted by angry or scornful cries from below Gangway,Josephhad not a scrap of paper in his hand, did not once refer to a note.
"Admirable," saidGrandolph, looking on with appreciative, though not loving eyes. "If he had lived in the time of his fatherJacob, it would have been no use his brothers putting him in the pit; he would have argued himself clean out before they were half a mile on their way back to the family place in Canaan. Weak part of his position is that he is trying to serve two Bills,Balfour'sandParnell's. Can't recommendBalfour'sscheme without belittlingParnell's; same thing other way about. Reminds me,Toby, of a passage inWordsworth'sprose writings; not so much read as his poetry; but daresay you remember it. There was a BishopWatsonwho began his official career as a Liberal. He was frightened into Conservatism, andWordsworth, then a hot young youth, goes for him as youth does sometimes gird at Respectability. 'Upon what principle,' he asked the Bishop, 'is your conduct to be explained? In some parts of England it is quaintly said when a drunken man is seen reeling home, that he has business on both sides of the road. Observing your Lordship's tortuous path, the spectators will be far from insinuating that you have partaken of Mr.Bourke'sintoxicating bowl. They will content themselves, shaking their heads as you stagger along, with saying that you have business on both sides of the road.' That's what's the matter withChamberlain. He's very smart, very clever, very capable; but in politics, dearToby, no one ever succeeds who has business on both sides of the road."
"What doyouthink?" I askedChristopher Sykes, who stood looking on with familiar aspect of unutterable wisdom.
"I wasn't thinking of that at all," he answered, gloomily. "Haven't yet got over whatGeorge Lewissaid in Court on Saturday. You've heard or read about it, of course? Took opportunity of observing, that though I was near sixty years of age, I was very innocent. I may be getting on for sixty, but I'll tell you what,Toby, I'm not nearly so innocent as I look."
Christopherreally hurt withGeorge Lewis'saspersion. Comforted him by hinting that I knew some dreadful things about him.
"We remember your Crabs and Lobsters Bill," I said, soothingly. "There was much more in that than met the eye. You're a crafty oldChristopher; just the sort of man to take in a fellow likeGeorge Lewis, who thinks he knows everything."
Christophersmiled a deep and wicked smile, and strode off in better spirits. Always like to say a kind word to a man when I can.
Business done.—Land Purchase Bill again.
I'm not nearly so innocent as I look"I'm not nearly so innocent as I look."
"I'm not nearly so innocent as I look."
Tuesday.—Fight on Land Purchase Bill been going forward again at Morning Sitting; rather dull, though enlivened by speech fromPlunket, who once more reminded House how much it loses by his habitual silence. At Evening SittingGrandolphcame on with his Licensing Bill. Let eager politicians and ambitious statesmen arm themselves for combat in the field of high politics;Grandolph'sonly desire is to do a little good in the world whilst yet he lingers on this level. Nothing new in crusade against drink. Nokudosto be gained; no acclaim of the multitude to ring in the pleased ear; no cheering clash of party conflict.Grandolphgives a deprecating twirl to his modest moustache, and takes up his homely parable. Possibly he does this with the larger content, since he had his go at the Land Purchase Bill before Debate on Second Reading opened. His letters, published on eve of Easter recess, hurtled pleasantly around the heads of his esteemed friends on Treasury Bench. Could not say anything more or anything better if he joined in debate; so sits silent through Morning Sitting, and when the shades of evening fall, he meekly lifts up his voice, expounding a measure of domestic legislation fraught with permanent interest to the masses.
"A most promising member of the Band of Hope," saysWilfred Lawson, regardingGrandolphwith fatherly kindness. "Wonder if I might ask him to crack a bottle of ginger-beer with me. Will certainly proffer the hospitality if I get a chance."
The grand youngGardner(andhis wife; can complete quotation now) back again after wedding trip. Doesn't look quite so brisk as the average bridegroom. "Fact is, old fellow," he said, as I condoled with him, "when I said I would die a bachelor, I never thought I would live to be married, go off on a wedding trip, catch the influenza at Innsbruck, the measles at Milan, the scarlatina at Samarcand, and the malaria at Mentone."
Business done.—Morning Sitting, Irish Land Purchase Bill; Evening,Grandolph'sLicensing Bill read First Time.
Thursday.—Ordinarily amicable proceedings in debate on Irish Land Purchase Bill varied by accidental but unhappy circumstances. PrinceArthurin course of speech happened to say, that "under Bill of 1886 Irish Government was supposed to be a buffer between the English Government and the Irish tenant." Mr. G., sitting attentive, suddenly sprang up when this insult fell on his ear. Bill of 1886 not a tempting topic; led to downfall of his Ministry; but to hear it publicly called a "buffer," more than he could stand—or, rather, sit. Leaped to feet, and, with thrilling energy, repudiated gross imputation. PrinceArthurtaken aback; hadn't meant anything particular. To call a thing or a person a buffer not necessarily a term of opprobrium. Everything depends on inflection of tone. Suppose, now, leaning across the table, he had addressed Mr. G. as "old buffer," that would perhaps have been a little familiar, but not vindictive.
This he tried to make clear. Having, as he thought, averted the thunder, repeated remarks about Bill of 1886 being a buffer. Didn't even put it in that direct form.
"I said," he observed with seraphic smile and deferential manner, "that the Irish Government under the Right Hon. Gentleman's Bill was supposed to occupy the position, more or less, of a buffer between the English Government and the Irish tenant."
Mr. G. up again with catapultic force and suddenness. "Not in the least," he angrily protested. "A buffer is between two things."
Expected that would floor PrinceArthur; but he came back again, and sheltering himself behind the brass-bound box, called out, "Yes, but a buffer might be between two persons as well as between two things."
Mr. G. angrily shook his head; a Jove-like frown mantled his countenance. But disdained to pursue controversy further, and PrinceArthur, carefully avoiding further reference to buffers, went his way. Difference of opinion as to how question was left; Conservatives insist that PrinceArthurhad best of it; Liberals stand by Mr. G. Many wonder whySpeakerdid not interfere; as he did not, it is assumed that buffer is a Parliamentary word, at least when applied to inanimate creation.
Business done.—Second Heading of Irish Land Purchase Bill carried by 348 Votes against 268.
Friday.—Hartingtonsuddenly, unexpectedly, surprisingly, blossomed into effective speech. Of all subjects in world was Disestablishment of Kirk in Scotland! Calculated to depress most people; brightenedHartingtonup beyond all knowledge. His little hit atGladstone, sheltering himself behind his (Hartington's) familiar and convenient declaration, that on Disestablishment Question he would be guided by the opinion of the majority of the Scotch people, neatly and dexterously made. Also his reference to the short time when he had honour of being "at least the nominal Leader of the Liberal Party," and found Mr. G. a somewhat unruly follower. Most excellent.Hartingtonshould try this line again.
Business done.—Motion for Scotch Disestablishment negatived by 256 Votes against 218.
Wednesday, May 7.—Mr. Punchout. Everybody's at home tohim.
Friday 9.—Mrs.Duffer'sfirst dance if she knows the step.
Saturday 10.—Rehearsal of Crystal Palace fireworks, 2P.M.Admission by entrance gates only.
Monday 12.—Breakfast to Mr.H. M. Stanley, at whatever time he orders it.
First Meet of H.S. Drags, Serpentine.
Foot-ball in Rotten Row, by kind permission ofGeorge Rangerand the Commissioner of Police.
Mrs.Noodle'ssecond dance postponed, as she hasn't given her first yet.
Tuesday 13.—Holiday at Zoological Gardens. Cages all open. Admission free. Banquets, Excursions, and Alarums.
Lady Henrietta Siskin'sCharity Dance has been postponed until the following week. A large and distinguished company is expected to grace the mezzotint hall of her ladyship's new mansion in Belgravia on the occasion. No expense is to be spared in the general decoration of the supper-room, which was built, it will be remembered, by her ladyship's great-grandfather in the reign ofGeorge the Third.
A Correspondent furnishes us with the following curious observations:—"I have noticed," he writes, "that those who walk or ride in the Park are, generally speaking, of two sexes, and possess, as a rule, four fingers and a thumb on each hand. By a curious freak of fashion, a frock-coat is not now worn with a muslin skirt; and a moustache may be sought for in vain under a sun-bonnet. Horses are ridden with four legs, and, in some cases, with a tail, although this is not essential."
It is strange to notice how much the tastes of theatre-goers vary at the present day. Some prefer the Haymarket, some the Strand, others flock to the Lyceum, and some are turned away from the Savoy, the Garrick, or the Avenue. Philosophers have, as yet, paid too little attention to this matter. Would Mr.Herbert Spenceror Mr.Langoblige?
It has been calculated by the Society for the Collection of Domestic Data, that if three-fourths of the Cooks of the Metropolis struck work on any given day, exactly nine-twelfths of the resident employers of servants would be seriously inconvenienced.
There is but very slight foundation for the report that, ifAugustus Druriolanus(first so styled in the burlesque onClaudian) should be elected to the Shrievalty, Messrs.Harry NichollsandHerbert Campbellwill be the Under-Sheriffs.
A Correspondent lately drew Mr.Gl-dst-ne'sattention to the prevalence of mud after rain, and the consequent injury to carts, collars, and carriages. The veteran Statesman has found time to send the following post-card reply, which will be perused with interest:—
Sir,—The subject to which you direct my attention is no doubt of peculiar interest to those in any way connected with the vehicular traffic by which so much of the commerce and pleasure of the Metropolis is carried on. In view, however, of the pressing exigencies of the Irish Question, I cannot do more than take a note of your objections to mud-spots, leaving to those who may come after me the duty of dealing practically with your recommendations.
I am, faithfully yours,
W. E. Gl-dst-ne.
On the evening when Mr.Stanleydines with the Turners' Company, where he is entertained as a Re-Turner, it is hoped that the authorities of the National Gallery will kindly allow all their Turners to attend. The history of the Turners' Company is interesting, commencing as it does withWhittington, who was the first person (beforeHenry Irvingplayed it) to hearThe Bells, and to obey their injunction "to turn again."
Pointing finger
NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.
NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.